


Kitchen Magic

by wirewrappedlily



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: 5+1, M/M, Prompt Fic, never done one before
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 08:41:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wirewrappedlily/pseuds/wirewrappedlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Don’t sound so distrustful. Just because you decided of the two of us, you should be the chef doesn’t mean I can’t cook, I’ll have you know.”</p>
<p>5 Times Bones cooks for his Jim, and 1 time Jim got to return the favour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kitchen Magic

**Author's Note:**

> So I posted a begging note for any 5+1 prompts last night, and this was one of them. 
> 
> So, for [vafertor](http://vafertor.tumblr.com/), thank you for prompting, and please feel free to prompt/request/whatever again, it's part of the reason my Tumblr and my username here are the same damn thing.

1.

Leonard McCoy took one look at the cocky, insolent, annoyingly persistent pain in his ass that had been showing up around the Academy more than McCoy saw most of his damn professors, and his brain immediately made the diagnosis: Jim Kirk had been driven out of his mind for following _Leonard_ , of all people, around, but more worryingly, it looked like the kid hadn’t eaten since they met on the shuttle a week ago. 

So the annoying pain in Leonard’s ass found himself being pushed into a chair in Leonard’s dorm room, idly curious as to what the hell Leonard was cursing him out about, and faced with a set table in front of him, Leonard’s mess of PADDs and notes shoved to one side. 

“You like spicy?” 

Jim looked around, “Don’t really care. I can handle it killer, though.” 

Leonard nodded once, then shook his head, banging around the little kitchenette. 

“Where’s your roommate?” Jim asked over the cacophony. 

“Dropped out officially now.” Leonard sighed, “Shouldn’t be surprised, livin’ with me is bad enough, let alone the workload--” Leonard cut himself off, grumbling too low for anything to be coherent, and Jim looked over at him. 

“If you’re doing what I think you’re doing, your the best damn roommate I’ve seen yet.” 

“And what do you think I’m doing?” 

“Either feeding me or preparing to torture me for information. Which you won’t get.” 

Leonard sighed, “And why the hell do I feel the need to feed you?” 

“According to a friend back home, because I give off the impression of being helpless and adorable and people react to this lost-puppy nature of mine by trying to either feed me or cuddle me. Either way, lucky me.” 

“This friend back home have a name?” 

“Bettany Miller. She’s a waitress in a diner in Riverside.” 

Leonard’s movements slowed, and he looked back at Jim, who was sneaking a look at Leonard’s PADDs, intelligence in those damn blue eyes. 

“She prouda you?” 

“She told me that if I did anything to get my ass sent home in a bodybag, she’d personally make her way over the Styx, kick my sorry ass, drag me back, and then kill me again.” 

Leonard’s lips were twitching, “Good.” 

2.

Jim had a raging fever, three exams, and a headache so bad that it was a wonder, to Leonard, how he wasn’t throwing up, because Jim’s hands rarely shook like that and he’d managed to hide the grunts of pain and wincing, but Leonard knew him, by now, too damn well. 

Leonard’s hands fluttered every few minutes, wanting to toss the PADD across the room and get Jim moving for the shower to help tone down the pain, but he knew that Jim wouldn’t be having it, this week above all others. 

Sighing, Leonard gave in to the pull to do _something_ , and started the rote movements that went into making chicken noodle soup. 

He’d had it on standby in their fridge, the ingredients ready and waiting for when he needed them most--he’d thought after his exam on What To Do With Antiquated Torture Devices People Used To Call Medical Implements, but Jim was so obviously in a bad way that he wasn’t about to just put up with Jim’s pain. “As your doctor, I’m ordering a fifteen minute break.” 

“I’m not studying.” Jim informed him, “I’m actually trying to help Admiral Archer with--” 

“You’re Death warmed over, Jim. Fifteen minutes. Get a damn shower, hot as you can, see if that helps.” Jim looked up at him with bleary eyes, but put down the PADD and shuffled into the bathroom. Leonard sighed, shaking his head as he got everything going, washing his hands before going back to his own PADD. Jim was muttering something to himself under the shower; the only reason Leonard knew this because Jim never talked or sang to himself, so hearing it was different, was wrong. Leonard shifted towards the door, listening intently. 

“C’mon, Kirk...you can do this. You know you can.” 

Leonard stopped listening, his chest twisted and worried. He pulled up the file on his PADD for proper medical practice concerning high-stress situations, wondering idly if exam week would count. If Jim was pep-talking himself through a shower, it was going to take more than the Magic McCoy Chicken Soup to get him better again, and that was saying a lot.

3\. 

Leonard only knew it was Jim’s birthday because he’d pulled Jim’s medical files. There weren’t any cards, no holovids of loved ones wishing him well. Hell, for how popular he usually was, it was like, on this day, Jim had ceased to exist. 

Jim had practically run out of their dorm room that morning, though, and Leonard hadn’t seen him since--not in class, or back home; and with it going on eleven at night, Leonard was starting to worry, just a little. He knew what day this was, doubly: there wasn’t a soul who didn’t, considering Starfleet had broadcasted a Rememberance vid about George Kirk and his legendary twelve-minute captaincy. Leonard needed to find George’s son, because if his instincts about the devil were right, Jim would be so far in a bottle he might not be able to tell which way was up enough to get himself back out. 

Finding Jim, thankfully, didn’t turn out to be that hard. 

He was slumped against the wall beside their dorm room door, miserable-looking and reeking of something that was only just passable as alcohol. He looked up at Leonard with bleary eyes, his features pinched, “Was hopin’ you’d go to sleep so I could sneak in.” 

Leonard crouched down beside him, pushing Jim’s leather jacket back so he could see Jim’s face properly, “You shoulda known better, sweetheart. You eat somethin’?” 

Jim shook his head. 

“C’mon.” Leonard grunted, picking Jim up with him. “We’ll get some food in you and then you can sleep, Jim, and the day will be over.” 

“‘Nother whole year before...happens all again…” 

“Nah, there’s been a rule let out: they’re skipping this day next year. Just completely skippin’ over it, it’ll be tomorrow after yesterday.” 

Jim snorted, his head lolling. “Why you takin’ care of me?” 

“‘Cause you’re a pain in my ass.” Leonard replied simply, bent down to get Jim in the seat. Jim caught his shoulder, looking into his face with eyes that could swallow worlds, Leonard was sure. Jim kissed him chastely, just a press of lips, and Leonard felt heat flood him. 

“Thank you.” Jim told him simply. 

“Don’t thank me yet, darlin’.” Leonard managed, clearing his throat. Jim let go of his death grip on Leonard’s shoulder, and Leonard turned to grab up a plate, dishing up the macaroni Jim loved him to cook. “I’ll be existing in the same space you do tomorrow, you’re gonna want to kill me for breathin’.” 

“No, I won’t.” Jim slurred, tipping his head back to look at Leonard instead of what Leonard put in front of him, “You’re my favourite person, why would I want you not breathing?” 

“Eat up, kid. You’re gonna need all the grease you can get.” 

4\. 

Leonard felt oddly domestic after his first date with Jim Kirk. It was ridiculous, because he couldn’t really cook in the black, but he wanted to cook anyway. Had the itch; the urge. 

“Bridge to McCoy.” Jim’s voice through his comm made Leonard freeze like he’d been caught. 

“McCoy here.” 

“Bones...Okay, don’t kill me. Three Klingon warbirds have just shown up, and they want to fight the best warrior of us, so I’m about to go fight to make sure the Klingons don’t--” 

“JIM!” Leonard bellowed, furious. 

“No, Bones, no. See, I have to, or they’ll kill us, so I’m going to go do that, I’m giving you warning that I’ve gonna be doing it. I wish you could talk me out of it, but you really can’t, because I’m responsible for everyone on this boat. I wanted to ask if you’d come with Spock, Sulu and I, but if you’d--” 

“I’ll be there in five.” Leonard snarled, clicking off. Swearing at himself profusely, Leonard ran for the transporter room--completely forgetting the half-finished meal he was cooking for himself and the Captain. 

Five hours later, returning with Jim slung over his shoulders, babbling about how he hadn’t expected Leonard to be so good in a fight to the death with Klingons, Leonard returned to see Nyota, Christine and Carol digging into the food, the three women smiling as he remembered. “It’s lovely, Dr. McCoy.” Carol remarked, grinning. 

“Spock’s had this thing installed to alert the safety officer on deck when the mess has been left with the burners on, as it were.” Nyota explained. 

“So, we finished it for you.” Christine finished, “But it smelt so good in the slow cooker…” 

Leonard waved a hand, looking utterly drained, “I just hope y’all enjoyed it. Jim’s not gonna ‘til I regrow his damn teeth.” 

5\. 

Introducing Jim to his mother had been nothing for Leonard, but being near Jim before doing so had been near-impossible, Jim was awash with so much anxiety. 

And then they’d sat down a lovely, Southern lunch--and then Jim had collapsed on the floor, convulsing as his tongue had swelled, the allergic reaction bad as ever. 

Leonard sorted out what had caused it while Jim had been slurredly assuring Mrs. McCoy that it wasn’t her fault, he was allergic to too many things to count. “We’ve got a new one for the list.” Leonard called out, shaking his head. He trailed back to the sitting room where his mother was doting over Jim with worried tears in her eyes. “It’s alright, but I’m gonna make somethin’ else, if that’s alright with you, mama.” 

She nodded vigorously, “I’m so sorry, Jim, dear.” 

“No, Mrs. McCoy. So long as you weren’t trying to kill me and I’m allowed to date your son, I can forgive anything.” 

Leonard was so glad he had his back turned to Jim, because his face was alight. 

Jim was gonna pay for that. 

+1. 

Leonard groaned, rolling his shoulders loose and lax over the bed, the only thing wrong in the whole ‘verse in that moment the empty expanse of bed next to him. 

It was the morning after the first time Jim and Leonard slept together; and Jim not being there, all long soft lashes and sweet, relaxed face, was not a good sign. 

Until it was. 

“Hey, no upright!” Jim ordered from the doorway, padding in with a breakfast tray in his hands and a light in his eyes like Leonard had never seen before. “You’re not supposed to be upright yet, I’m serving you breakfast in bed!” 

Jim was grinning ear to ear as he scolded Leonard into proper breakfast-receiving position, and Leonard could only smile up at him, one hand reaching out to fall on Jim’s slim hip as he set the tray down. “Wow. You cooked all this?” 

“Don’t sound so distrustful. Just because you decided of the two of us, you should be the chef doesn’t mean I can’t cook, I’ll have you know.” Jim bent in, kissing Leonard long and sweet. He already tasted like coffee, and Leonard moaned into his mouth, blissful. 

“All this time, you were holdin’ out on me, huh?” 

“Not really. I’ve cooked before this, you were just too buried in your exam prep to notice.” Jim murmured, rubbing a hand lovingly over Leonard’s bare waist. “Eat up, Bones. I plan on some heavy physical exertion before either of us gets called back from Leave, and I plan on starting as soon as fucking possible.”


End file.
